


may death find you alive

by Seito



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Gods, Master of Death Harry Potter, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seito/pseuds/Seito
Summary: When Noctis wakes after his victory over Ardyn, Etro is not the Goddess of Death he meets. But rather a young man with bright green eyes and dark hair, who introduces himself simply as Harry.





	may death find you alive

It was done. Noctis allowed himself one last moment of peaceful happiness. It was done. Now Eos would be safe, the Starscourge gone, Ardyn (family, long lost family) could finally be put to rest. Fiercely, desperately, he hoped that his friends, his brothers, were safe. He entrusted the world to them.

With one final deep breath, he felt himself scatter like flower petals on the wind.

And woke to a world of ruins.

Noctis blinked, surprised he even woke up. He stared out, at the crumbling stone buildings, the wide ocean that stretched in the distance. Spirals of green metal twisted, crowning buildings, spreading out in a way that it could only be suspended with magic. 

He turned around, peering into the building he stood in. A temple from the looks of it. Crumbling walls, cold stone and crystals, intertwining and mixing. A sense of emptiness, a hollow cold. There in the center of the room, was a blue crystal and an empty white throne on top of it.

“Welcome to Valhalla. If you’re looking for Etro, I’m afraid she isn’t here.”

In the fraction of the second Noctis took to blink, the empty white throne was no longer empty. Now, sat a young man with bright green eyes framed by dark glasses and dark hair. A cape hung from his shoulders, spilling down the throne.

Noctis shifted into a readied stance, pulled at his magic… and felt no swords materialized. He hissed, realizing that his connection to his magic had vanished. And… and… wasn’t that right? The Crystal was absorbed into the Ring of Lucii, he carried the Royal Arms to the afterlife to defeat Ardyn, burned the last of his magic to defeat the Starscourge. The Ring was gone, the Crystal was gone, and even if Noctis could still feel the Royal Arms in his soul, he had no means of summoning them.

“Who are you?” Noctis asked, slowly edging away.

“You can call me Harry.” Harry looked at him, amused.

Noctis felt a flare of irritation. He had just finished fighting Ardyn who made it a point to mock and belittle him every step of the way. Noctis really wasn’t in the mood to deal with yet another jester.

“And what do you mean Etro is gone?” Noctis asked, wary.

The Astrals were one thing. They exist, in paintings, in stories, in myths. Even though they had slumbered, they were physical. There was never any questions about of their existences for all that it had been centuries since anyone had seen them, until Luna woke them, until Noctis fought them.

But the dual goddesses, Eos and Etro were a different story. Only stories of them existed. If they existed physically, there had never been any evidence of that. People questioned them for years, but worship persisted.

Eos, the Dawn Mother, the Goddess of their planet, Giver of Life.

Etro, the Goddess of Death, the Maker of Humans.

Etro who was the Lucis Caelum family’s patron Goddess.

(Most people believed it was Bahamut. That was misconception. Insomnia was where Bahamut chose to slumber. Lucis Caelum’s crest was a skull for a reason. But it was tidbit that the public had forgotten.)

“Gone as in dead,” Harry said.

Noctis arched a questioning eyebrow. “Who killed her?”

Harry stared at him. “Huh, interesting. You’re surprised that she’s gone, but not that she’s dead.” He hummed. “Does that make you Noctis Lucis Caelum?”

“Yes…” Noctis said, growing more and more wary. It had become an alarming sign when people (gods) knew his name and not in the context of Prince of Lucis (or… well, he was officially King, wasn’t he?).

“Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Harry said, jumping up the throne, cape fluttering behind him and coming close. “The Chosen King, the King of Light, Godslayer.”

Noctis jolted. The last title was new.

Harry wryly smiled. “If what Etro told me was true, you slain a few gods. Is it any surprise you gained the title of Godslayer? Merit done is title gained.”

Noctis scowled. “I never wanted those titles.”

“Those that don’t, are often the ones who receives them,” Harry said. His tone was regretful, as if speaking from experience.

Like flipping a switch, Harry smiled. “As for your question, Etro’s death was no one’s fault but her own. She chose to intervene, perhaps too many times. Her mercy was both a curse and a blessing, and with the last of her power spent, she died.

“But that is a story for another world, far different from yours. Its heroes have come, gone, fixed the problems their gods had created. Valhalla remains empty, an outpost on the way to the afterlife.”

“Then who are you?” Noctis asked. “If Valhalla was empty and Etro is gone, why are you here?”

“Because no matter how many universes there are, the cycles of Life and Death are absolute. And in death, there are no barriers,” Harry said.

Noctis felt a chill run down his spine at the implications. “You’re another God of Death.” A statement, not a question of fact.

A glimmer of grief reflected in Harry’s eyes. “Titles,” he chided gently. “I’m simply Harry.”

Noctis flinched. Was he an unwilling God of Death? Then… he used to be human? Whatever the equivalent of human was in Harry’s mind.

“Why am I here?” Noctis asked, forcibly changing the subject.

“Ahh and now we get to the actual situation,” Harry said. “Before she passed, Etro had one last gift, one last mercy she wished to bestow to the last of her worshippers, to the Chosen King. A reward for all that he had done.”

Harry turned, a sweeping gesture to the empty throne. “A chance to take her place, to become the new God of Death for your world.”

Noctis revolted. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “ ** _No_**.”

He never set out to gain godhood. He never wanted it. He barely shouldered the burden of being the Chosen King. If that made him an unfaithful follower to her, then so be it.

“I thought as much,” Harry said calmly. “It’s probably for the best. Etro always mean well, but her gifts often have numerous consequences because she doesn’t make the effort to understand. As I said, her mercy is both a blessing and a curse.

“So then, Noctis, what do you want?”

Noctis swallowed, heart jumping into his throat. What did he want? That was so easy. He wanted to go back to his brothers. Being the Chosen King was never what he wanted, but he did it, because it was his duty as King, because what was one life compared to the rest of the world? Though he had walked tall to his destiny, there had been a small part in Noctis’ heart that cried at the unfairness of it all. Bahamut stole ten years and the prophecy cut the rest of his life short.

Noctis was thirty, felt like twenty, and missed so much. He had fought and bled as it was required of him. Could you consider yourself well-lived at twenty?

He was selfish. All he wanted was to go back to his brothers, to go back home. He wanted to see the sunrise, see more of Prompto’s pictures, hear more about Gladio’s family, taste more of Ignis’ cooking.

“I want to live,” Noctis whispered.

Harry laughed. “How selfishly human,” he said with delight. “But I thought as much.”

He undid his cloak and swung over Noctis’ shoulders. Noctis looked at him, befuddled and still Harry laughed.

“Well then Noctis Lucis Caelum. If that is what you want, then I suggest you wake up.”

-.-.-

Noctis gasped, drawing in air.

“N-Noct?” Prompto’s broken, hopeful, voice came from his right.

“Prompto?” Noctis mumbled. He rubbed his eyes, feeling groggy, like he had just woken up from a nap.

Before he could shake the last of the sand from his eyes free, Prompto’s weight crashed against him. “Prompto! Get off!” Noctis shouted, pushing at him.

“You’re still alive!” Prompto said, sobbing in his shoulder.

Oh. Right. The prophecy. His foretold death. 

Noctis wasn’t given much more time to think before Gladio and Ignis joined into the group hug.

“Knew you were too stubborn to die,” Gladio said roughly.

“You’re still here,” Ignis said, equally reverently.

“Guys, a little too tight,” Noctis gasped.

They loosen slightly, but not enough to let him go. That was fine. Noctis didn’t care that they were dirty, covered in daemon blood and bruises. All that mattered that he was back with them.

“This is touching.”

Noctis blinked, seeing Harry standing a few feet away.

“They can’t see me by the way,” Harry said. “I expect you to return my cloak to me when I come back.”

Noctis realized he was clutching to some sort of material in his hands.

Harry grinned. “But I suspect it’ll take me a while to make my way back here. At least a five to six decades.”

Oh. This was… a loophole. A second chance. Noctis smiled at Harry who gave him a cheery wave before vanishing.

Noctis hugged his brothers. “Hey guys. I’m back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review on your way out :D


End file.
